


Man's Best Friend (Is a Creature of Nightmares)

by DontTrustLoserCandy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (a little horror), Fluff, Ghosts, M/M, Mentions of ghosts, OCs - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, horrorterror makkachin, inspired by a certain horror story WHOSE NAME I CAN'T REMEMBER, loosely inspired by counterheist's wonderful au, no horror though, not that they appear for long or have a big role in this fic, well-meaning demonic pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 12:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11148342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontTrustLoserCandy/pseuds/DontTrustLoserCandy
Summary: Victor is twelve when he meets his wonderful, amazing, unique little red-eyed puppy and future best friend, Makkachin.Makkachin, who might or might not be the spawn of the forces of darkness, a hellhound or maybe just canine Satan, feels the same. Of that, Victor is sure.Still, raising a dog comes with its own set of troubles, especially when said dog drinks blood for breakfast and her barks sound like breaking glass.Andespeciallywhen you're keeping her hidden from your parents.





	Man's Best Friend (Is a Creature of Nightmares)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by @counterheist's Horrorterror Makkachin AU, aka a gift to this world  
> now i can sleep

 Victor is twelve years old when he stays over at a friend's place for a sleepover. It's his first (and last, skating and vague concepts of the term "sleepover" aside), and he's completely _thrilled_.

Dmitri is slightly younger than Victor, wide-eyed and fretful at the best of times, downright panicked at worst, but he doesn't leave when Victor starts talking about skating and doesn't seem to mind that he's always training.

Dmitri doesn't call him names, or thinks he's weird for already thinking of a future full of healthy food like steamed broccoli and traveling around the world, and Victor has latched onto him as a result. He's nice enough, a friend, and Victor enjoys the status of  _friend_ with giddiness bubbling in his stomach when Dmitri invites him for a  _sleepover_ after classes.

He meets his parents that night, a nice enough couple who fuss over him and feed him so much food he feels ready to burst by the time he's full (and he can hear Coach Yakov's voice grumbling about unhealthy food and affecting his skating in the back of his head, but Victor is at a  _sleepover_ so he's allowed to do whatever he wants today).

The highlight of the night, though, is their dog, a very pregnant black little thing with the _curliest_ fur that Victor falls in love with as soon as he sees her. He spends the night cooing over the dog, carefully feeling her stomach and gasping in delight when something kicks back, like a small  _I'm here_ that makes Victor smile from ear to ear, makes him put his ear against her tummy and coo softly at her and her babies. At some point, Dmitri's parents finally drag him away from pestering the dog, words about Agata needing rest and Victor seeing her tomorrow soothing him for the time being, and both children end up being exiled to Dmitri's room to "play like the children they're supposed to be".

(They play being dogs, as per Victor's insistence, and Victor barks and yips and wrestles a much more reticent Dmitri until the other boy is laughing on the floor.)

That night, Victor dreams of beautiful, tiny puppies, and  _aches._

 

 

 

 

The next day, Victor wakes up with  _puppies_ stuck on his head and a thrum of energy running through his body, making him rush to see the dog as soon as he's vaguely vertical. He flings himself down the stairs, heads towards the corner where good Aghata had her little nest all set up, and drops in disappointed confusion when she's not in her pretty blue bed anymore.

"Where's Agata?" Victor asks as soon as he sees Dmitri's mom, standing in the kitchen and looking intensely at her phone. She looks at him, gaze conflicted for a moment, and Victor's heartbreak must be palpable in the air when she finally sighs. 

"In the basement. She...Gave birth yesterday night," is all she gets out before Victor is gasping in delight and turning around, running to the basement door Dmitri had hesitantly pointed at while showing him his house the night before.

Dmitri's mom yelps, a high-pitched sound of alarm that vaguely sounds like Victor's name, but he ignores it and instead rips open the door, practically jumping his way down the stairs with the delightful abandon of children and people with suicidal tendencies.

He hears her harried, urgent footsteps following behind him, voice growing in urgency by the second, but Victor is too busy exploring the poorly light basement to worry about impressions and making adults angry at the moment. A light turns on over his head, Dmitri's mom apparently flipping the switch even as she calls his name and starts to go down the steep staircase, but Victor spots Agata first, a bundle in a corner, curled up around copious blankets and old clothes. He croons, carefully walking towards her as to not to startle the new mom, and looks her in the eye even as her wide-eyed gaze fixes on him and doesn't move away.

_Scared,_ he realizes with a pang of guilt, and coos reassurances about how he's not going to hurt her or her babies in his sweetest voice.

Behind him, Dmitri's mom yelps another "Vitya!", but Victor ignores it in favour of getting on his knees in front of Agata, calmly offering his hand for a sniff. Agata doesn't growl or bite him, like he's heard some new moms do from lecturing adults, but she doesn't move to sniff him either, and Victor hesitates for a moment before he puts his hand closer to her face. He gets a tiny lick in answer, eyes still wide and scared, and Victor smiles with all the reassurance he can muster in his twelve years old heart and pets her fur with a warm hand.

Then his eyes fix on the babies, eager and awed to meet them, and he coos.

"And what do you have here, Aga?" He asks, voice doing all the excited wiggling he's not letting himself do at the moment.

The puppies are small, black and brown and with the tiniest, pinkest snouts, and Victor counts four babies in two different colorations, assembled like a strange table of checkers, or the cutest flag in the world. Their eyes are shut closed, practically glued together, and their tiny legs kick at their mommy's tummy as they suckle, two at either side of her of her belly. There's a weird, furry thing lying on the middle of the puppy line like a misplaced sock, much bigger than the rest of the babies, and Victor wonders if he should grab it and put it away to let the babies have an easier access to rest of their mom's milk.

Then the sock opens its eyes, and stares directly into Victor's.

_Red,_ a deep and vibrant red, and Victor loses his breath as he realizes the furry shape  _is_ actually another puppy. A gigantic, awkward-looking black puppy with starkly red open eyes.

Victor doesn't think he's fallen so instantly in love with something since the first time he took to the ice.

Dmitri's mom takes that moment to remind him of her presence, apparently done with hovering at the foot of the stairs, because she grabs him by the arm and quickly scoots away from Agata and her puppies. Victor hears her whispering something that sounds like Latin under her breath, and then she's half-dragging him up the stairs and through the house, back to the kitchen. He lets her, his mind and heart still taken by the black, red-eyed puppy who seemed to stare into his very soul, and he wonders if they'll let him keep it if he begs and lies convincingly enough.

(Victor's parents don't let him keep pets, something something about responsibility and busy and school and skating, but Victor  _has_ to have that puppy. He has to.)

So, his first impulse is to ask.

"Can I keep them?" He says, even as Dmitri's mom walks deeper into the kitchen in the search or something. She opens a cabinet, takes out a bottle of vodka and then chugs down directly from the bottle. Victor doesn't even blink.

Then his words seem to finally get through to her, because she chokes and starts to cough, vodka almost spilling all over the floor.

"K-keep them?" Dmitri's mom stutters, looking wide-eyed and startlingly similar to her son, before her face softens and turns into the sweet 'You Can't Have This' expression all parents seem to share. She takes two steps towards Victor and crouches down to look him in the eye. "Which one? They're still too young, Vitya, maybe in a few months..."

"The big black one," Victor continues, undeterred, because he's _in love._ "With the red eyes. They're bigger than the others, so that means I can take them, right?"

Dmitri's mom (Viktoria, she'd said, when introducing herself and her wife Alba. Victor would've frowned at the name if his Babushka's name hadn't been the same, and his great grandfather's before that) hesitates, her expression twisting into a strange, pained grimace, before she rises from her crouch in front of Victor and curses, twice. She starts pacing around the kitchen, mumbling what Victor suspects are more curse words and something in Latin he's only heard really old and really religious ladies mutter when really, _really_ affronted, and Victor stays quiet and lets her think things out.

He _will_ have that puppy, of that Victor is completely sure, but he knows better than to interrupt adults when they're busy thinking things through like they can't just trust Victor's judgement. It's a bit insulting, if he's being honest with himself, but waiting quietly to see what happens usually has better results than being loud or getting angry. Victor is good at quiet.

(That doesn't mean Victor isn't petty, though. He is, very much so, but there's not many people he can be petty  _at_ back home. It's a largely unexplored tap of salt as of yet, though he's gaining himself a good reputation as a smart mouthed brat among certain circles of teachers.)

Dmitri's mom finally stops pacing, looking at Victor like his presence is suddenly relevant again, and Victor tries not to jump directly to begging in response to her expression.

"Look, Vitya, puppies aren't... That puppy isn't  _right,_ " she says, like "right" is supposed to mean another word, and Victor stares blankly at her. "I'm really sorry, but we can't give you that puppy. It's probably sick, so we're going to put it down."

" _No_!" Victor shouts, horrified, and his hands curl tightly in themselves as he feels his stomach sink. "Why? She's so big and pretty and  _strong!_ "

Viktoria curses again, a terse hiss under her breath, and rubs at the tight lines between her eyes before grabbing back the bottle of vodka.

Then she starts to make breakfast, quiet and focused, and Victor shuffles on his feet, frowning at her turned back. He knows this tactic, too, knows what it means when adults stop listening to you and start acting like you're not there, and he sits down with a scowl he smooths out of his face before she can turn around.

Two can play this game, and he waits silently for his plate of whatever it is she's making for breakfast, mentally planning his next steps.

Once the plate of syrniki is on the table and halfway to being finished, Victor brings up the topic again.

"I'll treat her very well and always always take her out for walks," he says, trying to channel her mother's winning smile and confident sweet talk as best as he can. Viktoria frowns at him. "I'll bring her to the vet! If she's sick, then the vet will be able to help her, right? Please, I'm sure my dad and mom will be fine with it. I'll even call them to ask if you want."

It's a boldfaced lie, but one that seems to work, because Dmitri's mom looks hesitant again, frown carved deep into her face, and Victor gives her another winning smile. Then he fishes out his phone, used mainly to talk with his chauffeur, his coach and  _rarely_ his parents, and wiggles it hopefully.

Viktoria straightens in her chair, fingers drumming erratically on her arm, and then takes the bottle again and drinks from it like a person dying of thirst.

"Okay." Her voice is starting to sound a little slurred around the edges, but that's okay. Victor is familiar with this. "If- if your mom is okay with it, you can take the little hellbe-  _puppy_ with you. But only then."

Victor grins, nodding so much his head starts to feel dizzy and completely aware his parents would  _never_ let him have a dog. But Victor is nothing if determined, so he starts to make plans for that as well.

Lying is a bit like skating, in that he needs to be confident in his steps and body language for it to work like he wants it to. Thankfully, Victor has experience with these things, even if he doesn't particularly like them.

He's taking that puppy with him.

 

 

 

 

He leaves Dmitri's house with an overgrown, black puppy wrapped in blankets curled against his chest, and walks all the way to the end of the street before he considers it far enough. Then Victor takes off his coat and wraps it around the puppy, to better conceal to his chauffeur that he's taking with him a dog.

Victor looks at the strange, wonderful puppy wrapped in so many layers he looks like a pastry, and coos at her and gently rubs their noses together until she licks the tip of his nose. He scrunches up his nose at the feeling, overcome with fondness and other warm feelings beating in his chest relentlessly, and wipes at his eyes with a free hand.

"You're the cutest thing in the world and I love you so much." Victor whispers at her like a secret, and the puppy closes her eyes and goes back to sleep. His heart feels three times too big, and five fuller.

Nobody notices the dog in Victor's coat, not in the car and not on the way to his room.

Nobody asks or stops him or calls his attention for having a young pup with him, and Victor's chest tightens up in joy when he realizes what it means, holding onto his new charge as he enters his room.

He has a dog now.

 

 

(At the end of the week, Dmitri awkwardly tells him they can't be friends anymore, standing on the hallways before class.

"Mom doesn't want me to talk with you anymore," he says, hunching up his shoulders like he's expecting anger and retaliation.

Victor smiles, calm, and keeps his distance.

"It's okay," he says. "I understand."

He does.)

 

 

 

 

Coming up with his puppy's name is easier than Victor thought, as well as stranger. He spends around thirty minutes listing off names from one of his mom's magazines, feeling increasingly frustrated by the _wrongness_ of them all, before he's caught in her soulful, penetrating gaze, and then the name appears in his mind as if whispered in his ear.

_Makkachin._

Victor loves it.

Keeping Makkachin, on the other hand, ends up being harder than expected.

 

 

Little Makkachin starts whining and shuffling shortly after they get to Victor's room, and Victor fusses over her in concern until he realizes she's probably hungry. So he sneaks out downstairs, grabs a plate and a bottle of milk, and tries to feed it to his new dog.

After five minutes of nudging her to the milk and trying various ways to feed her, Victor is ready to admit it isn't working.

Frowning, he dips a finger in the milk and tries to gently poke Makka's mouth in what he thinks is an encouraging way. He's already tried this to no avail, but Victor is out of ideas, so he tries anyways. Her mouth opens at the soft pressure, and Victor tries to rub what little milk there's left on his finger in her tiny mouth.

Instead, he feel a pinprick of pain, and yelps involuntarily. Yanking his hand back, Victor blinks at the single drop of blood standing on his finger, and startles again as Makkachin starts crying. Confused, Victor brings back his wounded finger to Makka's mouth, and stares as the puppy starts to lap hungrily at the red drop, crying stopping instantly.

"Oh," Victor says, and then his eyes widen. "Makkachin! Are you a _vampire puppy?_  That's so cool! I'm not food though, but I'll get you something yummy to eat, promise!"

Victor takes his finger back once the blood is gone and before Makkachin can gnaw at it for more, and softly pats his tiny pup's head. Makkachin seems a bit calmed down after the snack, if still restless and hungry, so Victor quickly leaves the room and puts his plan in action.

(In the Nikiforov house, the _krovyanka_  and exported  _boudin_  the master of the house is so fond of are the first to disappear, leaving a harried cook scrambling to buy more next time Mr. Nikiforov comes home for dinner.)

(A few days later, the rat population starts dropping.)

 

 

 

 

Makkachin grows up fast, always hungry and sniffing at everything in curiosity. After three days of having her in his care, Victor notices the sharp row of tiny, pointy teeth growing out, and starts adding to her diet slightly bigger portions of blood sausage, and then the tenderest meat he can steal from the fridge.

After he comes home to half of his shoes and pillows bitten to shreds, he decides to buy her dog toys as well.

Thank goodness Makkachin didn't get to Victor's skating gear.

(She eat his skates two days later.)

 

 

 

 

Victor notices the eyes after the second week of having Makkachin, one day he's brushing her fur and bathing her in compliments. Victor has been devouring dog care books since Makkachin came into his care and, although a lot of things don't seem to work with her, she does seem to enjoy their little sessions well enough.

Victor is glad, and happily encourages healthy grooming habits with her new and special brush and her new and fluffy towel and nightly grooming sessions after Victor is done with training and homework.

It's in one of those grooming session, when he's petting her head while brushing down her shoulder blades, that it happens.

What happens is that Victor looks up to smile and coo praises at his wonderful puppy and notices an extra set of eyes observing him.

On his puppy's head.

Huh.

Victor continues scratching Makkachin's head, and watches as her second set of eyes closes in lazy pleasure, Makkachin's tongue lolling out even as her red eyes stay fixed on him full of doggy contentment.

It's honestly adorable.

 

 

 

 

Victor starts taking Makkachin for walks at night after the first month, when she starts jumping from place to place like an energetic chipmunk and running around her tail for hours. Her limbs are gangly and awkwardly long by then, her black fur charmingly curly and her big, red puppy eyes round and soulful in a way Victor can never resist. 

Makkachin likes to trot next to him in their walks, occasionally letting out tiny barks at shadows that sound like breaking glass and cackling bones, and Victor makes sure to keep her on a leash so he doesn't accidentally lose her from his sight when she tries to run ahead to the park, or off after a moving shadow. She always looks at Victor slightly betrayed when the leash stops her in her path, and Victor always explains to her why it's dangerous to cross the road without looking with all the sobriety of a twelve years old.

When she learns to watch the road, he'll let her go without a leash, he promises.

Makkachin barks every time and looks mellowed until the next suspicious shadow crosses her path.

(Her teeth have grown very sharp during these past few weeks since Victor got her, and her nails pitter-patter oddly on the wood. Victor likes the effect but he's heard the cleaning lady complaining about a possible infestation of _something._ )

(It makes Victor want to scoff. The house and garden haven't been cleaner of rats and other critters since Makkachin came.)

At the park Victor ignores the skulking figures of drunk people in the distance, whistling and throwing Makkachin's newest bone as far as he can (Victor doesn't know where the bones come from, but he's glad that Makkachin seems to be calming down on her annihilation of puppy toys as a result).

Makkaching goes, a flailing ball of slowly lightening fur and comically long legs, and Victor laughs.

 

 

 

 

Makkachin doesn't start to howl until six months after he gets her, and he's honestly startled the first time it happens.

As well as suddenly very glad that his parents are in China, because she keeps doing it for the rest of the night.

He's close to home, coming back from his nightly walk with Makkachin when they hear the faraway howls of other dogs, maybe even wolves. The sound is eerie, strangely exciting in a way that makes Victor's blood pump, and he looks up towards the horizon as if it would help him see the authors behind the bewitching howls.

Then Makkachin stops, sits down and throws her head back in a howl of her own.

Except that her howl comes out as a screeching so horrifying it sounds like the despaired wails of a woman eternally wandering the place of her death.

Victor jumps at the sound, staring at his dog in surprise once he realizes it's Makkachin making that haunting screaming, and blinks as she finishes and gives him a doggy smile.

Victor smiles back, patting her brown, fluffy head, and they continue their way home.

(He ignores the flashes of ghostly white and moving shadows at the corner of his eye that follow them all the way home.)

 

 

 

 

Victor has read that puppies sometimes change fur and eye colour when they grow up, but it's startling to see in plain sight all the changes he didn't notice after he finds an old picture he took of baby Makkachin.

He's fourteen by then, starting to climb his way up the ranks as fast as he can and chasing the podium with hungry competitiveness. Victor is starting to know the taste of _winning_ , the whispers of genius and potential, the smiles and compliments thrown his way along with the gasps of delight when Victor surprises the audience, and he likes it. He likes it a lot.

(His parents have started to off-handedly congratulate him for his wins, his mother even going as far as asking for his favorite dish to be made after he brought home his first gold, rising to victory as a dark horse, and it leaves him feeling high and hungry.)

Lately, he hasn't had as much time as before to just hang out with Makkachin, something Victor regrets now that his parents have lukewarmly accepted the idea of Victor getting a dog and he doesn't have a reason anymore to hide his puppy. The day he'd come home from their afternoon walk and told his parents he'd "bought" Makkachin with the "prize money he'd been saving for a while" had been one of the proudest and best days in Victor's life.

(Instead, he'd used the money to buy her new toys and a special doggy pillow, not that she ever slept on her own bed when Victor's was right there.)

The original reasons, the ones he'd forgotten about, why he used to hide his Makkachin and only take her out at night become blatantly apparent after he finds the old picture, and he stares at it for a while.

When Makkachin jumps on the bed and flops down on his legs, warm and cuddly as ever, he looks down at her and sinks his fingers into her brown, fluffy fur.

"You used to have black fur, did you know, Makkachin?" Victor asks, mentally comparing the fluffiness of his not-actually-a-poodle to the puppy in the picture. "I think your mom was smaller than you too, but you were always a big girl, hmm?"

Makkachin woofs, the sound low and lazy, and Victor pets her with a smile, marveling at the changes.

Where the puppy's body was black and scruffy, Makkachin now is covered by brown and fluffy fur.

Where the puppy's second set of eyes was visible if hard to see with the already dark coloring, Makkachin's fluffy locks cover them up.

Where the puppy had a dashing set of blood-red eyes coupled with the outline of sharp, small teeth protruding from her tiny mouth, Makkachin is now all round softness and black, soulful eyes, no teeth in sight unless Victor or her are being threatened.

Where the puppy didn't look _anything_ resembling a poodle, Makkachin now

can pass off as one without a second glance.

Victor has read that dogs were fully grown by their first year, but Makkachin is still slowly growing after two, gangly and long-legged like a teen. Victor smiles, hugs his lazy dog's head and rubs his nose against her fur.

"You're always full of surprises, aren't you Makkachin?"

 

 

 

 

It's not the last change Victor sees Makkachin go through, though the next time is much more obvious, and somewhat violent.

He's seventeen, back from buying groceries and getting mugged in a dark alleyway by three very angry men who look half-drunk and keep confusing him for a woman. The misgendering isn't so much the most pressing issue as the knife against his throat is.

The men are so concentrated on him, slurring out threats and rooting through his shopping bag that they don't notice him dropping Makkachin's leash, silently urging her to run away in case things turn awry.

She doesn't run away.

If Victor had wondered why Makkachin hadn't started barking and raising hell when he'd first been dragged off the streets and pushed against the wall, he soon gets his answer.

Shadows lengthen in the time it takes him to take a breath, shallow with the knife so close to his jugular, and he feels the temperature drop around him like a bucket of cold water thrown on their heads, chilling to the bone. His breath puffs out despite it being the middle of summer, cold hands clasping into fists, and he notices the shivering and nervous looks of the suddenly much more sobered men before the growling even begins.

A deep, staggering growling, enough to send off every red flag on a human brain and make it scream to bolt. One that reverberates against the walls and into the bones, tainting every cell of the body with heart-stopping fear, and makes cold sweat break out in a second.

Victor knows that growl, from puppy kisses and happy barks to concerned whines couples with cold noses against bruised ankles, and his body relaxes at the sound.

The figure that skulks out of the shadows, all sharp teeth and red eyes on 1,52 m of black fur and dangerous edges does not look anything like Makkachin, rage and death and _grim_ hanging off snapping maws, but it's Victor's puppy all the same.

The robbers run, terror and shadows snapping at their heels, tripping them up and throwing them against the walls of the alleyway, and Victor stares at their retreating figures before looking back at Makka.

"Who's a good girl?" Victor coos, scratching his very good puppy under her ear as Makkachin turns into happily panting putty. "Yes, you are."

He somehow manages to sneak his 1,52 m dog all the way home without causing mass panic that night, and by the next morning Makkachin is back to normal size and hungry as a black hole.

(It's nice to sleep cuddled up to a dog bigger than you, he finds out that night. Even if they have to sleep on a blanket nest because the bed is too small for Makkachin to fit. She looks heartbroken by the fact.)

(Victor buys a bigger bed.)

(Makkachin starts growing big before bedtime from time to time.)

 

 

 

 

Makkachin seems to love Yuuri at first sight, and the knowledge settles something deep inside Victor he wasn't even aware of. Yuuri loves Makkachin back as well, and it makes his heart feel three times bigger every time he sees them cuddling together or basking in the other's presence.

Even if it means Victor sometimes gets less nightly dog cuddles than he'd like because Yuuri still refuses to have a sleepover.

(It's okay though, because Makkachin is getting the maximum cuddles possible. Victor knows she sneaks into Yuuri's room after he goes early to Hasetsu Castle to warm up while he waits for the sleeping beauty to wake.)

Victor remembers, with uncomfortable clarity, not many of his ex-lovers liking

Makkachin much. Victor rarely had much time for them, busy with skating and

training and thinking of new choreographies for next season, of new ways to surprise the audience, and he didn't have much time for his dog either. So when he could, he tried to fix both issues at once, again and again.

It never quite worked out, least of all because Makkachin never liked them _back_ either.

There hadn't been something more unsatisfying as Makkachin disliking or outright ignoring Victor's partners, sometimes to the point of refusing to even be in the same room.

(Although, funnily, it was usually his lovers who refused to be in the same room as his dog. Victor remembers staring in parental disapproval at his dog more than once after hearing complaints and whispers about the dog being possessed, demonic, or _obviously a monster, Vitya, I swear I saw a second row of teeth when she yawned!_ )

Victor doesn't think would've been  _unsatisfied_ if Makkachin hadn't liked Yuuri.

Victor thinks he might not have _survived it._

He's so, so glad Makkachin sees how amazing and wonderful Yuuri is, and that neither Yuuri nor anyone in their family seems to mind or even notice some of Makkachin's less "normal dog-like" quirks.

And if he catches Makkachin stretching out paws with too sharp nails and lazily letting out a woof through shark-like teeth, well, Victor scratches her behind the ear and feels his heart and soul soften with contentment.

 

 

 

 

(Despite it all, it's not until Yuuri moves to Russia that Victor thinks about telling him the truth about his wonderful puppy.

Ends up the decision of how and when is made for him.)

 

 

They've finally finished unpacking for the day, and Victor has experienced the beautiful domesticity of changing his bedsheets with the help of another person for the first time in his life. For all that Victor has come to dread the mechanical and boring task through the years, he only feels light in his feet with happiness as he changes the blanket's bedding, and warm to the core as Yuuri smiles up at him from where he's fluffing up their pillows.

( _Their_ pillows, because it's _their bed_ now, and Victor feels like he could skate an entire routine about how much he loves changing his bedsheets with Yuuri Katsuki, and jump for a quad and never come down.)

Then Yuuri smacks him in the face with the pillow, and Victor squawks before grabbing ammunition of his own.

Suffice to say, it takes them a long time to finish preparing the bed, longer than Victor's ever taken alone, and he doesn't think he's ever had this much fun doing chores in his life.

(Even cleaning the dishes, later on, is still as fun and comfortable as he remembers it being in Yutopia, helping Hiroko or Mari or Yuuri after dinner. Victor suspects it must be a Katsuki thing.)

They decide to watch a movie before going to bed, one of Victor's old favorites that he bought with a ridiculously long list of subtitles options on a whim, and they spend the next hour and a half on the couch, Victor switching between listening in silence and whispering the translations on Yuuri's ear when his love starts to go limp in Victor's embrace, eyes barely open.

Victor might or might not spend the last half hour of the movie watching Yuuri's face instead of the movie, barely holding together the urge to kiss his fiancé all over the face after his first attempt to do just that was met with an adorably grumpy sound a hushed "Vitya, _the movie_ ".

That said, once the credits start to roll, Victor happily wakes his drowsing sleeping beauty with plenty of kisses, from forehead to eyes and cheeks. Yuuri makes a soft noise, close to a sigh, and contently buries his face against Victor's neck.

"Bed?" His love says, voice groggy and soft in his sleepiness, and Victor sighs softly out of the pure feeling of love and adoration resting in his lungs like a warm cloud.

"Hmm hmm. Want to shower first?"

Yuuri makes a vaguely agreeing sound to that, and Victor pats Makkachin off their laps. Makkachin, more than used to the 'bedtime' signal, yawns and trots down towards the bedroom without a second glance. She's going to sleep with them tonight then, and Victor vaguely wonders if she'll decide again to use their legs as a pillow halfway through the night as he ushers a half-asleep Yuuri into the shower.

Victor brings him pajamas, feeling a smile trying to push past his sleepiness as he looks at his (now permanently stolen) old t-shirt and Yuuri's too-big pants, and considers sleeping in the nude wrapped up around his Yuuri before remembering the downsides of having dog fur on his ass, never mind the chilly Russian mornings.

Once Yuuri leaves the shower and gets dressed, both of them bumping shoulders companionably as they brush their teeth, Victor takes his own shower as quick as possible so he can start on his nightly skin care routine. It's a lengthy, thorough routine Victor usually enjoys taking his time with, but with the promise of Yuuri's warm and sleepy body and the feeling of soft blankets waiting for him he finds himself wanting to rush through it as fast as possible.

"Uh, Victor?" Yuuri asks, voice muffled through the closed door, and Victor absently opens it before humming out a 'yes?'. "Victor, can you come. Please."

Victor stops, frowning at the unsure tilt of Yuuri's voice paired with his sudden wakefulness, and quickly leaves the bathroom with half of his face covered in mascara. He scrubs his hands clean from the white goop with a wipe even as he walks into their bedroom, unsure what the expect but ready for anything.

Or, well, almost anything.

"Oh."

"Uh," Yuuri says, and Victor looks at him, suddenly and irrationally terrified. Makkachin, still lounging on the bed in all her six feet glory, lazily thumps her tail against the bed and yawns, rows and rows of knife sharp teeth glinting in the light. "Are...are you seeing that or...?"

Victor looks at Yuuri's wide, confused eyes, and tries not to swallow noticeably. With any luck, the half-done mess in his face should be enough to distract Yuuri from any panicked wild-eyed expressions Victor might be making.

He's been thinking about telling Yuuri, yes, but hadn't found out a good way to broach the subject yet that wouldn't end with his fiancé possibly running for the hills. His latest plans had included an inflatable castle, dog masks and Victor's Baby Makkachin photo album, censored version.

So much for planning.

"Oh, that's Makkachin," Victor says, with such an amount of forced casualness and fake confidence that it might as well be barely contained hysteria. He might sound a bit wheezy.

Yuuri blinks at him. 

"Makkachin."

"Yes. She does that sometimes."

"Oh."

Victor blinks, eyes jumping from the place next to Yuuri's ear he was trying to memorize, and stares at his fiancé's expression.

Not so much horror, like he'd expected, or denial or even an anxious breakdown in the works at worst, but...thoughtfulness. 

Eyes shining, like he's thinking things though and fitting together the pieces of a puzzle.

Like he isn't one step away from running out of the apartment screaming in the wake of the very menacing-looking gigantic pup sleeping on their bed.

"Oh?" Victor repeats, nonplussed, and stares as Yuuri hums, eyes jumping from Makkachin to Victor to the floor.

"That...explains things," Yuuri finally says, voice soft, and Victor blinks at him.

"It does?"

"Yes. Ah..." Yuuri shifts, face going from pensive to embarrassed for a second, finally settling on something quieter, almost somber. "You know about Vicchan, right? What...what happened to him."

"Yes," Victor is very aware of that story, and his heart still aches when he thinks of Yuuri having to go through that, not even getting the chance to see his beloved companion one last time. He's not sure he would've been able to take it as well as Yuuri did, if it had been him in his place.

(Even now, he doesn't think he would've been able to cope as well as Yuuri did if he lost Makkachin.) 

"And you know about the hauntings in Yutopia?"

"The what."

Yuuri blushes, squirming in place as he seems to gather his words, and Victor stares at him in bafflement.

_Hauntings?_

"After...after Vicchan died," Yuuri finally says, and Victor's attention automatically focuses on his fiancé's words with laser-sharp focus. "It took our family as few weeks to notice but things...were different. Sometimes the door to my room would be open, despite the fact that it was always closed since Vicchan... He used to sleep in my room. And it's not only that," Yuuri sighs, shifting, and Victor grabs his hand in silent support. Yuuri smiles at him, eyes tired and heavy with the weight of the world, "It was the little things, like the pitter-patter of nails against wood, or the echo of barks, sometimes. Mari said she even felt something cuddle against her side, one night."

"Oh." Victor nods numbly, and only realizes after Yuuri's shoulders relax that the man was afraid Victor _wouldn't believe him_. He knows better now how Yuuri's mind works though, and doesn't take offense. "I didn't notice."

Now that he thinks about it, Victor does remember hearing a dog barking a few pitches higher than Makkachin's own boofing once or twice. He'd just assumed it was just another of Makkachin's little quirks, like the summoning the dead thing.

(Victor should've known better, after watching Makkachin wag his tail at nothing more than once.)

"Vicchan never did anything bad or very disruptive, and he did calm down after I came back home. And then calmed down even further after you and Makkachin came." Yuuri's eyes turn distant, a haunting sort of sadness weighting down his eyelids, and Victor silently wishes he could wipe it away with a finger, like a stray tear, or kiss it better. Instead, he listens in silence and watches as Yuuri looks back at Makkachin with no fear, but soft grief and what feels like nostalgia. "I...I thought I was seeing things, because one time I went to fetch Makka for a walk and...They were there, the both of them, hanging out in front of the shrine. I couldn't believe my eyes."

The last sentence is whispered, soft and shaky, and Victor is wrapping his arms around his love before he's aware of his actions, tucking Yuuri's head under his chin as best as he can to avoid smearing cream on Yuuri's hair.

Yuuri slumps against him, body going limp with a wet sigh, and Victor starts to card his fingers through Yuuri's hair as the man slowly breathes through unshed tears.

"I- I blinked and then...Vicchan wasn't there anymore. I thought I'd hallucinated it, even though I could hear him _pant_ in that way he did when he was happy, and..." Yuuri's arms wrap around Victor, and he closes his eyes, humming softly in support, slowly rocking them. "He stopped...presenting as much as he used to after that. We still occasionally hear him walking on the floor, but not as often."

A soft sigh, punched out by grief, and Victor cards his fingers through Yuuri's hair in silence, waiting until Yuuri is ready to continue.

"...Mom and dad didn't have the heart to call an exorcist. They loved Vicchan a lot too." His voice drifts off, bereft, and then adds softly enough that Victor almost doesn't catch it. "I loved Vicchan a lot."

"Yuuri," Victor breathes, arms squeezing his love in comfort, and Yuuri squeezes back before leaning against him in silence.

Victor isn't sure how long they stay like that, standing at the door of their room with Victor's face mask a half-finished drying mess that will probably flake as soon as he tries to move a facial muscle. The thought of his skin looking uneven in its perfection crosses his mind for a second, but Victor would gladly wear a half mask to hide his horribly dry skin the rest of his life if it meant being there for Yuuri, being able to hold him in his arms and comfort him as best as Victor can.

(Which might not be much or very well, but Victor is learning and always open to learn. He has Yuuri to thank for being so patient with him, even when Victor is petty and less than perfect.)

Yuuri finally sighs, louder and like he's enjoying the last bite of a bowl of katsudon, and Victor drops his arms as his love gently pulls away. Yuuri's eyes are dry, if a bit puffy from what might or might not have been a bout of crying, and Victor caresses his cheek and feels his heart jump and stutter when Yuuri leans into the touch, closing his eyes.

"Bed?" Victor asks, voice soft and gentle, and Yuuri nods once before looking at the bed. Noticing Yuuri's frown, he quickly adds, "Don't worry, you know Makkachin. She won't hurt you."

"Uh, no, I mean-" Yuuri says, looking from the bed to Victor, face settling in a serious expression. "Are we going to fit?"

Victor blinks, looks at the bed his dog is currently easily hogging as if it was her own custom-sized doggy bed, looks back at Yuuri, and opens his mouth.

"Ah. Maybe?"

Yuuri's mouth twists, amusement flicking through his eyes like twinkling lights, and then he's softly caressing Victor's fringe off his face. Victor hadn't even noticed it had slipped from where he usually keeps it clipped during his skin-care routine, but the gesture is enough to make him hyper-focus on the gentle, soft touch against the side of his head.

"First one in bed gets to cuddle Makkachin," Yuuri says, voice soft and tender and utterly distracting, and then promptly sprints to the bed. Victor stares, blinking at the wall as his brain slowly catches up to Yuuri's words, and Yuuri lets a whoop of victory as he jumps on the bed.

Victor gapes, _betrayed_ , and turns to look at the love of his life with a dismayed and entirely fake cry of ' _Yuuri!'._  

Ten minutes later, mascara washed off and forgone for the night after getting dry and useless, Victor snuggles his way into bed and hugs his sleeping, dog-stealing fiancé close.

He considers buying a bigger bed as he feels his body relax against Yuuri's, but then thinks of how enjoyable it is to be pressed against each other like this. Maybe he won't, after all, and just keep the bed as he kept it when he flied to Japan, not hesitating to send it over there after two days of sleeping on the floor.

It's a bed full of good memories, and full of two of the things he loves most in the world.

And as Victor drifts off to sleep, he can't but think that it's perfect as it is.

 

 

(He rethinks his decision that night, rudely waking up on the floor after Yuuri pushes him off in his sleep and goes on to hog the rest of the reclaimed free space left on the bed. Heartbroken, Victor ends up having to take the couch.)

(The new, _bigger_ bed is there by the next afternoon.)


End file.
